Chapter 48
The Man of Steel was only out for a few moments. He had landed in a field … somewhere. It took him a few moments to gain his bearings, but Clark soon knew that he had made it to Ohio. A long, lonely highway stretched out along the field's edge – Route 50. Thankfully, nobody was around to see him crash land. He checked the syringe and it was still intact.
With his prize still safe, Clark took a few moments to clear his head and took a few deep breaths. His body still hurt, his ribs the worst. He had struck the ground hard enough to leave an impact crater and worried that he might have suffered a concussion.
He leapt into the air again, this time, with renewed purpose. Instead of flying, however, he covered about fifty feet and landed, this time on his feet. Clark felt the impact ripple through his injured body, new pain in his knees. Clark had escaped Brainiac, but it seemed that the radiation poisoning was beginning to affect him. He had hoped that putting distance between him and Lex's suit would reverse the effects, but it seemed that with the stuff in his system, it was continuing to affect him.
How long will I be without my full powers? What power do I have left? Those were serious questions, given the foe that awaited him and the distance he had to travel. Thankfully, his vision was still keen. He spied a roadside phone booth in the distance and made for that.
Though still fast by human standards, Clark could manage running no more than fifty miles an hour. He would need to contact Lois or Lena and could not risk anyone seeing him in costume with his powers in such a diminished state. Thankfully, he kept his wallet and a change of clothes in a pocket on the back of his suit. It was just a Chief's T-shirt and gym shorts, but it was enough. The phone booth stood before him, its door opened wide.
Clark stepped inside and changed as fast as he could. He had pulled his T-shirt on just as the first car he'd seen he landed by. It was heading west, unfortunately. He would need to hitch a ride with an eastbound car, or preferably, a semi.
He then placed the call to Lena. The phone rang three times before she picked up.
"Lena Luthor."
"Lena," he began, but she cut him off.
"I don't recognize this number," she began. Clark surmised that she had one of those new caller ID boxes. "So, whoever you are, you'd better have a damn good reason for having my direct number!"
"Lena, it's me; Clark!"
"Oh! I'm so sorry, Clark. I didn't recognize your voice over the background noise. Where are you?"
"I'm on Route fifty in Ohio, west of Albany. I got what we need … but I'll need to hitch a ride back to Metropolis."
"What? Oh, my God, Clark! You must be injured!"
"I'll explain when I get there."
"Get to Snyder Field – it's just east of where 32 and 50 merge, just before Albany. I'll get Lois and we'll fly out to meet you!"
"Thanks, Lena," Clark replied. "You're a lifesaver!"
Lena giggled. "I like the change of pace – me saving you. Or at least I would if time were not such a factor."
"See you soon, Lena, and thank you again."
"Anytime, Clark."
He hung up and stepped out of the phone booth, his costume folded into a wallet sized package. Thankfully, the boots were not 'boots' at all, but something like half-chaps that covered red shoes similar to gym shoes, though far lighter and more durable. Clark looked like an athlete or a runner.
He began walking east, and soon, he was rewarded by an eastbound semi-truck. The large cabover tractor was pulling a tanker trailer. It slowed and finally came to a stop, where the passenger side door opened. Clark was greeted by a gray-haired woman who looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties. She looked pleasant but worn. He figured she had been a trucker for almost as long as he'd been alive.
"Where you headed, young man?" The woman's voice was low and raspy, and based on the cigarette butts in the open ash tray, Clark figured he knew why.
"Snyder field," he replied. "Do you know it?"
"Yer in luck, kiddo," she said with a grin. "I'm haulin' aero-plane fuel; it's my next stop."
Clark climbed in, amazed by his luck. "Thanks! You have no idea how much of a difference you're making!"
She laughed, flashing him a warm smile. "Glad to be of help, young man. Name's B.J."
Clark raised an eyebrow. "Didn't he travel with a chimp named Bear?"
B.J. laughed heartily. "Betty Jo, but nobody calls me that."
"Clark Kent," he replied, shaking her hand.
"Clark Kent? You're that newspaperman! With the Daily Planet!"
"You know me?"
"I drive to Metropolis often enough. Always read the Planet when I'm in town. You write good stuff – you an' that Lane woman." Then she leaned close, like they were sharing some big secret. "Bet you're on some big story!"
"Yes, actually. Can't give you the details, but when I turn it in, I'll be sure to mention you."
"Well in that case, let's roll!" Betty Jo jammed a Steppenwolf eight-track cassette into the trucks deck and "Born to be Wild" began blaring over the truck's speakers as B.J. put the big rig into gear and mashed the accelerator, bringing the truck up to speed, pulling on the chain that sounded the truck's loud horn and shouting, "Yee-haw!"
Clark leaned back in the seat and grinned. In spite of the circumstances, this was fun.
